Chapter 106 Inside the Mountain
Damien
We set up the camp quickly after checking the perimeter twice. No one relaxes. No one pretends this is just another night on the road. Soldiers move in practised patterns, checking perimeter lines, reinforcing watch rotations, adjusting gear they already adjusted an hour ago. Fires stay low. There are no songs, no laughter, no banter to fill in the silence. Survival hums beneath everything like a taut wire. Paul’s dragon still hasn’t shifted back. He rests just beyond the firelight, massive body coiled protectively near Ashlyn, wings tucked, head lifted. His eyes never leave her. Not once. Paul is still inside him, I can feel that, but the dragon is holding the reins now, unwilling to loosen his grip while the bond remains unresolved. Ashlyn sits on a fallen log, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the ground like it might provide answers if she looks hard enough. She hasn’t cried. That worries me more than if she had.
The dragon beneath my skin watches her, too, alert and measuring the risk factors here.
Not a good time to have a pining dragon in control, he rumbles quietly.
I know.
Red and Drake return as dusk bleeds into full night. They don’t announce themselves. They don’t need to. Drake steps into the firelight first, his face set in a sharp, focused expression. Red follows a moment later, rolling her shoulders once like she’s shaking off the icy wind still clinging to her. They don’t sit and that tells me everything.
"The Glacial Sanctum is built into the mountain," Red says without preamble. “Not on it. Inside it.”
She moves closer to the fire and crouches, picking up a stick and dragging it through the dirt with quick, precise strokes.
“It’s tiered,” she continues. “Think fortress more than palace. Stone, ice, and iron. Whoever built it expected sieges. The whole place is designed to keep people out... and people in.”
Drake nods. “The outer approach is a wide shelf cut into the mountainside. Exposed. No cover. That’s where the main gate is.”
Red sketches a rough half-circle in the dirt. "Reinforced steel covers the gate over the stone. Two guard towers flanking it. Ballista mounts — old, but still functional. At least twenty guards are stationed outside at any given time, all appear to be ice elementals.”
I crouch beside them, adding markers as they speak.
“Rotations?” I ask.
“Tight,” Drake replies. “Every two hours. They overlap shifts, which means someone’s always awake and watching.”
Red adds another line above the gate. “Above that, carved directly into the rock face, are two secondary entrances. One to the east. One to the west. They're narrow paths. Steep climbs.”
“Which one’s used?” I ask.
“The eastern,” she says immediately. “More traffic there. Servants, supplies, patrols. It’s warded, but actively maintained.”
“And the other?” I ask.
Drake exhales slowly. “The western path is older and appears less travelled. Still warded, but the magic’s… settled. Not fresh. No guards posted directly at the entrance, but it’s not abandoned.”
That makes it more dangerous, not less.
Red draws a rough outline of the interior now. “Inside, it’s layered. Lower levels house barracks, storage, kitchens, and holding cells.”
“Holding cells,” I repeat.
Drake’s jaw tightens. “Yes.”
I file that away without comment.
“Mid-level,” Red continues, “is administrative. Command rooms. Archives. Ritual spaces. There are people there who clearly aren’t soldiers. Women, children, even some men that look totally normal if you discount the ice that sparks out of their fingers and toes.”
“And the top level?” I ask.
Red hesitates, just for a fraction of a second.
She concludes the upper tier is isolated. “Single access point. Heavy wards. No patrols.”
Drake finishes it. “That’s where she is. Or at least where she lives when she not out scouting the world for new lovers to kill and ice elementals to manipulate.”
The fire pops softly between us.
“The First Frostborn,” I say.
Red nods. “We didn’t see her, but we felt her. The temperature drops the closer you get. Frost creeps where it shouldn’t. Whatever lives up there doesn’t need guards.”
The dragon beneath my skin coils tighter, heat and anger threading through my ribs.
“How many inside, total?” I ask.
Drake rubs a hand over his jaw. “Conservative estimate? Forty to fifty guards. More if there are reinforcements stationed deeper inside the mountain. Probably a few hundred civilians.”
“And structure?” I press.
“They answer to someone,” Red says. “Not her directly. There’s an internal command. An older, scarred man carries himself like a veteran. He gave orders and others listened.”
Good. Chains have links. Links can be broken. I straighten, scanning the camp.
“We don’t assault the gate,” I say. “That's too visible. Too loud.”
No one argues.
“We use the western path,” I continue. “Small teams with a quiet entry. Disable internal commands first.”
“And her?” Red asks.
I meet her gaze steadily. “We don’t go for her until we control the Sanctum.”
Ashlyn laughs suddenly from behind us.
It’s sharp, bitter and not at all amused.
“That’s great,” she says, pushing to her feet. “So while you’re planning a very organised murder expedition, I’m apparently carrying around a dragon who’ll lose his mind if I say no.”
Paul’s dragon rumbles softly, pleased by her proximity.
She spins on him. “Do not purr at me.”
He does not stop watching her.
I stand slowly. “Ashlyn,” I say evenly, “no one is asking you to decide anything tonight.”
“Feels like the universe already did,” she snaps.
“The bond doesn’t demand immediate acceptance,” I say. “But ignoring it will make things worse.”
“For him,” she says flatly.
“For both of them,” I correct.
Her jaw tightens.
“And my men?” she asks quietly. “The ones I left behind. The life I chose?”
“They still matter,” I say. “This doesn’t erase that.”
“But it complicates it.”
“Yes.”
She exhales, shaky.
Paul’s dragon lowers his head just slightly — not submissive, but careful. Waiting.
The dragon beneath my skin stirs.
They're both a flight risk, he murmurs. They can not come with us to The Sanctum.
I know, I answer silently.
I turn back to the group.
“We rest,” I say. “We eat. At first light, we move.”
No one questions it.
The Glacial Sanctum waits, and now we know exactly what we’re walking into.